


Oh, It's a Reasonable Sacrifice

by Duck_Life



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s06e26-s07e01 Descent Parts 1-2, Friendship/Love, Gen, Guilt, Team as Family, The Borg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-19 01:42:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22236553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duck_Life/pseuds/Duck_Life
Summary: After what he did to Geordi while under Lore's control, Data believes the correct course of action is putting himself in the Brig. Meanwhile, Geordi recovers under Dr. Crusher's care.
Relationships: Data & Geordi La Forge, Geordi La Forge & Hugh
Comments: 9
Kudos: 124





	Oh, It's a Reasonable Sacrifice

Geordi La Forge is trying not to panic. 

It's hard— his gut instinct whenever his VISOR is taken is  _ panic _ . And the situation is worse than some of his most nauseating nightmares: the captain and the counselor imprisoned, his arms and legs strapped to a table and Data looming over him, cruel and apathetic. 

Data doesn't seem to care that Lore is manipulating him. So Geordi tries another approach. 

"Data… do you remember Lal?"

Silence. Geordi imagines Data blinking and tilting his head. "Yes," Data says. "A failed experiment."

Geordi's chest twinges. "She was your daughter," he corrects. As worried as he is for his own wellbeing, he aches for Data. He knows what it feels like to be brainwashed, to be tricked and turned against your friends and loved ones. "Lal loved you, Data."

"That is not possible," Data says. "Lal did not have access to the emotion chip that Lore has. What we identified as love at the time was most likely a malfunction."

"It wasn't," Geordi says. "She loved you, Data. You were her father. You can feel emotions now, right? What do you  _ feel _ when you think of your daughter?"

"... Nothing." But he doesn't sound so sure. 

"Can you love, Data? All the stuff that Lore did to you… did he make it so you can love your daughter?"

Data's hands freeze over the nano-cortical fibers. "Love is not an emotion."

"Sure it is," Geordi says. "I can  _ feel  _ it, Data. I feel love for my family and my friends and for you, Data. Captain Picard and Counselor Troi and I, we all love you."

"Stop trying to—"

"Do you love your brother?" Geordi asks. 

"Lore…" Data says, and he sounds far away but at least he doesn't sound so damn blank. "Lore has given me everything I ever wanted."

"So you're happy now?" Geordi says. "Data, do you even know what happy feels like?"

Something moves, something clinks and clatters. It sounds like Data setting his tools down on a table. Geordi hears Data moving, pacing across the floor. Like he's finally carved a hole in the wall Lore put up around Data. 

"My entire existence, I have striven to be more human," Data says. It doesn't even sound like he's arguing with Geordi— it sounds like he's arguing with himself. "No one on the Enterprise cared about my journey."

Geordi coughs. It's almost a laugh. "You think we don't care? Data, Riker was having such a rough week that he was falling asleep at his station, but he  _ still  _ came to your poetry reading. Captain Picard went toe to toe with Starfleet to argue your civil rights. Dr. Crusher taught you to dance! We all care about you.  _ We love you _ , Data. We're your family."

"I…" He falters. Like Geordi's winning the argument. Unfortunately, being right doesn't actually make a difference here. "Lore is my family."

"You planning to stay here with Lore, then?" Geordi presses on. "Who's gonna take care of Spot?"

"What do I care?" Data says. "The animal was merely… a prop. Part of the ridiculous role I forced myself to portray. I was… I believe 'playing house' is the human phrase."

"Yeah, right," Geordi scoffs, trying to shove down the fear blooming in his chest. "C'mon, Data, you care about the cat."

"I do not."

"You care what happens to the cat."

"I do not."

"You care what happens to me," Geordi cries out. 

Data is silent. Then— "I care about your status only insofar as it pertains to my brother's experiments."

"That's not true," Geordi says, unable to keep the note of pleading from his voice. "I'm your best friend, Data. You care what happens to me." How many hours have they clocked in the holodeck solving mysteries? How many years have they known each other, relied on each other, turned to each other in times of need? It’s killing him to be so close to Data and unable to reach him, the  _ real _ him. 

“I believe you have misunderstood the role I play in your life,” Data says. “Before my brother liberated me, I was… a puppet. A tool. A machine.”

“ _ He’s _ telling you that!” Geordi snaps. He knows shouting won’t get him anywhere but he can’t help himself. “Data— I know you aren’t exactly yourself right now, but your memories are intact, yeah? Haven’t I always stood by your side? Haven’t I been your friend? Have I ever treated you less than human?” 

“I am  _ more _ than human, now,” Data says. “Being more human was a ridiculous goal. I can be so much more than human.” 

“That’s not what you wanted. That was never what you wanted,” Geordi says. “ _ Please _ .” His brain feels like it’s being compressed in a vice. “Lal,” Geordi mumbles. “You downloaded her memories when she died. Which means… which means that you’ve seen yourself from her point of view. Do you remember  _ that _ , Data? Do you remember how Lal felt about her father?” 

Data is silent. Then he says, “Lal experienced cascade failure. Her malfunction resulted in the illusion that she felt—”

“She loved you, Data,” Geordi says. “You were a good dad. You are a good friend. Don’t let your brother take all that away.” 

“Lore is not taking anything away,” Data responds. “He is giving me so much. Emotion. Clarity. Purpose. Things I could never achieve with Starfleet.”

“Discovering new worlds didn’t give you purpose?” Geordi presses. 

Data ignores him and continues his work. 

The strange pressure in Geordi’s head seems even worse now. Data said there was a 60% chance the experiment would fail. For the first time, Geordi considers the other 40% — the chance that the experiment will work, and his brain patterns will be copied into a neural net like Data’s. 

It’s a 40% chance that Lore will be able to use him just as he’s using Data now. Either death, or a life as Lore’s puppet. No, he still doesn’t like those odds. 

“Data, listen,” Geordi says, although he doesn’t know why. Data hasn’t listened to him so far. “I’m… I might not be walking away from this one.”

“Do not despair,” Data says lightly. “The experiment may succeed.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Geordi just wishes he could see him. “Data… you remember how I said that you might not be able to forgive yourself for what you’re doing?” Silence. Geordi takes in a shaky breath and lets it out. “Well… I do. No matter what happens, whether I die, or… or the other thing… I forgive you for this.” 

“That is not a logical response.”

“No, it’s not.”

* * *

Events blur together. Geordi can feel whatever Data’s been doing to his head tearing through his senses, leaving him confused and in pain. Vaguely, he’s aware of Deanna holding his hand, murmuring assurances. When he hears Data approaching, he can’t help it— he winces. “You’re killing him,” the captain says, and Geordi’s not inclined to disagree. “He won’t survive another session.”

Or maybe he will. That’s the real nightmare. Deanna squeezes his hand. 

“I did not come for him,” Data says. “I came for you.” 

The captain leaves their cell, and that’s the last thing Geordi is sure is real. Everything else feels like a fever dream— Deanna’s hand on him, the sounds of shouting and phaser fire in the corridor outside, a conversation at the entryway. 

There are rough hands on his shoulders, and Geordi jerks away. “Please don’t, Data,” he gasps, terror pulsing through his chest. “ _ Please _ .”

“Commander.” It’s a voice he knows, a familiar voice, but then, Data’s voice was familiar and his face was that of a friend but he lied he betrayed he hurt and now, oh, now there are worms in his head and heart eating away at the person he’s supposed to be, turning him into a robot-monster-puppet-thing for Lore to parade around, everything he is and was melting away into nothingness.

* * *

The computer informs Riker that Lieutenant Commander Data is in the brig. There’s no apparent reason for him to be there— Lore’s body is being kept in sickbay, Crosis is dead and the other members of the Borg were left on the planet’s surface. With trepidation blooming in his chest, he heads to the brig. 

Data is sitting on the edge of the metal bench inside one of the cells. His eyes are fixed on the wall in front of him. He does not look up when Riker enters the room. “Data,” Riker says, watching him through the force field, “what are you doing in here?” 

Data still doesn’t look up. “Conspiring with an enemy of the Federation,” he says flatly. “Capturing Starfleet officers. Torture… torturing…” With Lore deactivated, the emotions that were controlling Data are gone. Technically, he’s back to his normal self again. But that doesn’t explain why he looks so… haunted. “Is Geordi okay?” Data nearly whispers. 

“He will be,” Riker says. “Beverly’s attending to him right now. You can see him as soon as—”

“I do not think that would be wise,” Data interrupts. “My presence would only cause him more pain.”

“Now you’re just making assumptions.” Data says nothing, and Riker sighs. He rakes a hand through his hair, wondering if he should have asked Deanna to come with him. She was on the team that Data helped capture, though. That complicates things. Everything’s complicated now. Who counsels a guy for being forced to kidnap his counselor? “So let me get this straight,” Riker says, leaning against one wall of the brig. “You’ve put yourself in the brig.”

“That is correct,” Data says. “I will remain here while I await my sentencing.”

“Sentencing?” Riker asks. “Shouldn’t there be a trial first?” 

Data stares intently at the gray wall in front of him. “The last time I stood trial, the debate was over my sentience and my right to life,” he says. “... They should have listened to you, Commander Riker.”

“What?”

“At the trial,” he says. “You should have let Maddox take me.”

“Now, hang on just a second—”

“I was always susceptible to being controlled and used against my crewmates,” Data goes on. “A failing of my programming. If Maddox had taken me, I would not have been on the away team the last time we encountered the Borg and Lore would not have been able to feed me negative emotions and the Captain and the Counselor would not have been captured and Geordi would not be dying—”

“Geordi isn’t dying,” Riker says. “He’s going to be  _ fine _ , Data.”

“I mocked him,” Data says. “He was in pain. He was frightened. And I mocked his fear, told him I was working on my sense of humor.” Riker can see the synthetic muscles in Data’s neck straining, can see him clenching his jaw. “I should be deactivated and disassembled just like Lore.” 

“No,” Riker says. 

“If it is my wish to be deactivated—”

“I say no,” Riker says. Instead, he deactivates the force field. “And you shouldn’t stay here in the brig, either. Why don’t you go to your quarters? You’ll be more comfortable there.”

“My comfort is irrelevant.” Data doesn’t look away from the wall. 

Riker’s had enough. He steps over the divide between the cell and the rest of the brig and comes to stand in front of Data, crouching down so they’re at eye level. “Data,” he says slowly, “you weren’t in control of your actions.”

“I was, actually,” Data clarifies. “It was my emotions that I could not control. But I could control my actions.”

“You were being influenced,” Riker continues, racking his brains. “Geordi. Do you remember when the Romulans captured Geordi and brainwashed him for their assassination plot?”

“Brainwashing is an antiquated—”

“Do you  _ remember _ ?” Riker asks. 

Data nods. “Yes, I remember that incident.”

“Geordi tried to kill a Klingon ambassador,” Riker points out. “Shouldn’t he stand trial for that? Shouldn’t he be here in the brig, too?” 

“No,” Data says quickly. “Geordi was not acting of his own will.”

“So if people do bad things when they’re under someone else’s control, they aren’t responsible for those actions?” Riker says. 

“... That is correct.”

“Which means that you didn’t do anything wrong.” 

Data stares at him, realizing his error. “I remember all of it,” he says. His voice is barely more than a whisper. “I hurt Geordi, and it made sense. I did not question it. Why did I not question it?”

* * *

Hands. Tools. Fingers digging into his brain, pulling out all his free will and independent thought and replacing it with wires and circuits and— “Stop, stop,” Geordi begs, and his hands are free (when did his hands get free?) and he grabs at Data’s wrist except Data isn’t there. 

“Geordi, it’s okay.” Dr. Crusher. She is quiet and close to his face. “You’re safe. You’re back on the Enterprise. I need to get these fibers out of your head, alright? And I need you to stay calm for me right now. Can you do that?”

Where’s Data where’s Data where’s Lore can’t see trapped, trapped, Geordi thrashes against the sickbay cot and sweeps an arm out, needs to get out of here, can’t stay here, Lore is coming any second and Data isn’t Data and his head is cracking open like an egg. 

Dr. Crusher again, sounding desperate. “I can’t sedate him until I get all these fibers out.” 

Someone else is there, someone else is in the room with them, is going to numb his pain receptors and irradiate his brain cells until there is nothing left of him, nothing left at all. Somebody holds his hand. 

“Geordi, do not worry.” 

That voice. Not Dr. Crusher. Not Data not Lore why can’t he  _ see _ ? 

“You are going to be okay,” the Borg drone says and it is a Borg it is the Borg they are going to assimilate him use him take him change him make him one of them resistance is futile freedom is irrelevant oh God oh no. “Geordi.” 

The hand squeezes his. Geordi squeezes back. “Hugh?”

“That’s right,” Hugh says. “I am right here. You are safe. I won’t let anything happen to you.” 

“My head hurts.”

“I know. It will be over soon,” Hugh says. “Beverly will help you.” 

Beverly… Dr. Crusher… not Data, and Data wouldn’t hurt him except that he  _ did _ and why does every thought feel like strings strung together on the rigging of a model ship sailing into nothingness in the void of space why can’t he  _ think _ ?

“Hugh— don’t go.”

“I won’t go anywhere, Geordi.”

* * *

Geordi doesn't remember going under, but evidently Crusher must have managed to sedate him because he does remember waking up. 

He thinks, for a moment, that he's back in his quarters, but when he reaches for the VISOR on his side table there's nothing there. Panic sets in and his memories come rushing back. "Where's— ?"

"Hugh is down on the planet surface, developing a leadership plan with Commander Riker," Beverly Crusher assures him. He hears footsteps, the swish of her lab coat, and then the VISOR is pressed into his reaching hand. 

"Thank you." He clicks the VISOR back on and is reminded suddenly of the way Data deceived him before, using Captain Picard's voice to trick him. He cranes his neck up, looks— it's really the doctor.

"I thought you would be out for another couple of hours," she explains apologetically. "Otherwise I would have asked him to stay."

"It's alright," he says, even though his chest twinges a little. If someone had told him 5 years ago that he would one day rely on a member of the Borg for comfort and familiarity— that his best friend Data would  _ hurt  _ him— he would've sent them to Counselor Troi for being delusional. 

"You had quite a few visitors," Beverly says, hands held out in case Geordi needs help sitting up. He doesn't. Whatever Data did to him seems completely neutralized now. He can  _ think  _ again. "I didn't let anyone stay too long," Beverly goes on, "but a few of them dropped off gifts."

More than a few. The table she's pointing to is practically heaped with donuts and candy and cards and flowers. There's even some kind of cube-shaped game perched on top of a PADD. 

"That's from Reg," Beverly says, pointing. "And the PADD is full of essays, short stories and articles he thought you might find interesting."

"I was sedated."

"He seemed to think I might be keeping you here for weeks and weeks," Dr. Crusher sighs. Off Geordi's look, she smiles and shakes her head. "I'm not! I'm not. A few more hours, I think. I want to run a few tests to make sure that your synapses are all functioning correctly. And then I'll look at clearing you to return to duty."

"Thanks."

"Unless you want to request a leave of absence," she barrels on. "Which is completely understandable. I can have Deanna come and talk to you about—"

"No, no, I'm fine," he says, waving away her concern. "I mean, my brain doesn't feel like scrambled eggs anymore. And I'm not Lore's prisoner, so." 

Her mouth thins into a line. "Of course."

"Actually, what happened to—?"

"Data killed him." She shakes her head, fast. "I mean, I mean, Data deactivated him."

"Good." 

Except he knows that Data had hoped he and his brother might reconcile someday, somewhere safe where no one from the  _ Enterprise  _ would be in danger. Now it seems he's given up that chance. 

"Data?"

Beverly sighs and rests her hands against the sickbay cot. "Data… put himself in the brig."

Geordi laughs.

It comes out like a hysterical little burst, manic and loud, and he claps his mouth shut looking horrified with himself. "It's not funny, oh my God, that's not funny at all," he says. "It's just so  _ him _ ." Geordi sighs. "I think… I think I'm really tired and overwhelmed, is… is the thing."

"I know," she says. "It's okay."

“It wasn’t his fault,” Geordi sighs. “He knows it wasn’t his fault.”

“I think he’s… very shaken up about everything,” Beverly says carefully. “Of course he’s not still experiencing the emotions that Lore was forcing on him. He allowed me to examine his positronic net— medically, physically, he’s fine now. But…”

“But?”

“Geordi,” she says, “you could have died. And Data knows it. From his point of view, he’s committed an unforgivable crime.” 

“But I’m fine  _ now _ ,” Geordi says. He starts pushing himself to his feet. “If I could just go see him—”

The doctor’s hands flutter around his shoulders. “That’s not a great idea,” she says quickly. “I don’t want you leaving sickbay, Geordi, not until I’ve had more time to observe you and make sure that the effects of Lore’s…  _ experiment _ are completely gone.” 

Geordi bites back a groan and settles back on the biobed. He  _ needs _ to see Data, needs to know that Data is okay and himself again, needs to let Data know that  _ he’s _ okay. The idea of his best friend putting himself in the brig, sitting there and thinking terrible thoughts about himself… It damn near breaks his heart. 

“So I’m stuck here,” Geordi sighs. “And Data won’t leave the brig. Can I have visitors?” 

“That’s fine by me,” Beverly says. “In fact, I’ll go ask Will to tell Hugh that you’re awake.” She vanishes into her office, and Geordi reaches for his combadge. 

"La Forge to Lefler."

"Lefler here."

"Could you please come to sickbay?” Geordi says. “I have a favor to ask."

* * *

"Ensign Lefler, how well do you know Commander Data?"

Robin Lefler purses her lips, thinking. "I've never actually worked on his circuitry before, sir, but I've seen schematics. I have a basic understanding of his composition. If he needs repairs, I could probably—"

"No, no, I mean how well do you  _ know _ him?" Geordi says. "The man, not the machine."

"Oh!" Lefler looks embarrassed. "Well, we've had a few passing conversations. He helped me choose a birthday present for Wesley Crusher. I'd say we're… colleagues, acquaintances. Why?"

"I need somebody to go talk to him," Geordi says. "And honestly… I think it might be better if it's  _ not  _ someone he's super tight with. Data thinks he betrayed the  _ Enterprise _ , and all his friends."

Lefler frowns. "I know the situation, sir. Lieutenant Commander Data wasn't at fault."

"I know that, you know that," Geordi sighs. "Somebody needs to make sure that  _ he  _ knows that. I was hoping that might be you." 

Robin nods, considering it. “I can try, sir,” she says. “But Commander Riker’s already spoken to him. I’m not sure what I have to say that hasn’t been said. But—”

“But you can try,” Geordi says gently. “That’s all I’m asking.” 

“Will do,” she says. She takes a donut from his table of gifts on her way out of sickbay. 

* * *

Geordi’s next visitor is Hugh, who comes into the room looking concerned but breaks into a grin when he sees that Geordi is awake and alright. “Geordi!”

“Hey, Hugh,” Geordi says, leaning up to hug the former Borg drone. “I’m glad you’re here. And— and thanks for sticking with me during the surgery.”

“Of course,” Hugh says, still looking concerned. “It was the… it was… I was so  _ worried _ , Geordi. And I felt that it was all my fault.”

“What is it with you guys? First Data, now you,” Geordi sighs, massaging his forehead with one hand. “Everybody wants to take the blame. This was Lore, Hugh. It was Lore’s master plan and Lore’s fault. Not yours.”

“Still,” Hugh says, "I am sorry that I did not come to your aid sooner.” 

"Don't worry about it. You came through when it mattered. You were a  _ hero _ , Hugh. In fact—" Geordi unpins one of the pips from his collar and attaches it to Hugh's tunic. "I'm making you an honorary acting ensign. Ensign Hugh."

"You have the authority to do this?"

"Probably not. Almost definitely not."

Hugh looks down at the pip with pride. “Thank you, Geordi,” he says. “You gave me my name. Now you have given me a rank.” 

“It’s up to you to live up to it, now,” Geordi says, smiling at him. “To be a good leader for your brothers and sisters down on the planet’s surface. You’re not just another Borg now, you’re an officer. You need to learn how to take charge.”

“I am working on it,” Hugh assures him. “Riker has been helping.” 

“That’s good,” Geordi says. “He’s a good teacher.”

At that moment, Ensign Lefler returns from the brig. If she’s startled to see one of the Borg standing over Geordi’s bed, she doesn’t show it. 

“I’m sorry, sir, I tried,” Lefler says. “Data thinks it’s all his fault. I told him that I didn’t think it was, I told him that  _ you _ didn’t think it was… he said that we’re all ‘susceptible to our emotions and our attachments,’ whatever that means.” 

“He thinks we’re just being nice,” Geordi sighs. “He thinks we’re telling him that it wasn’t his fault… just to be nice.” 

Lefler nods. “Now what?” 

“I don’t know.” Geordi fidgets with the cube toy that Reg gave him. As it turns out, it’s actually pretty entertaining. And it gives him something to focus on so he doesn’t start spiralling. He glances at Hugh, then back at Lefler. “Any ideas?” 

“Maybe…” Lefler says, thinking. “Well, Data thinks we’re just being nice, right? Maybe he would be more willing to listen to someone… who doesn’t have a reason to be extra nice to him.” 

“Like who?” Geordi says. 

But then he gets an idea. 

* * *

“Commander La Forge! Well, it’s good to see your face again,” Dr. Pulaski greets him from the screen. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“Hi, Doc,” Geordi says. “It’s Data.”

“What’s he done now?”

Geordi gives her the most basic rundown of the situation— well, as basic as possible. To her credit, Kate Pulaski listens attentively and doesn’t interrupt. “... And now he’s sitting in the brig, and nobody can convince him he doesn’t belong there.” 

Pulaski nods. “Sounds like him.”

“Doc, you were always going head-to-head with him,” Geordi says. “As much as you two might have disagreed, there were times when you got through to him. I was hoping you could get through to him now.” 

“I’ll try.” 

* * *

“Ensign Lefler,” Data greets cordially when she reappears in the brig. “To what do I owe the—” His words trip themselves up, his brain seems to stumble over the word “pleasure.” “It is good to see you again,” Data amends. 

“Just patching someone through,” she explains, coming into his open cell to input a few commands into the monitor on the wall. Data watches her inquisitively. “Okay,” she says, tapping the touch screen one last time. “Should be good to go. I’ll let you talk.” Lefler leaves. 

A familiar face fills the screen. “Hi, Data,” Pulaski says. 

Data’s eyes widen. “Doctor,” he remarks. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes, something’s wrong,” she sighs. “You’re sitting in the brig. What’s going on?” 

Data’s face clouds over. “I have betrayed my crewmates and injured my friends,” he says. “If you wish for more clarification, I am sure Dr. Crusher or Captain Picard will be able to provide you with a full account.”

“I want to hear it from you,” Pulaski counters. “In your own words.” 

Data gives her a measured look and then glances away, resigned. “Very well,” he says, and he launches into the whole story. While he’s as factual as ever, the retelling can’t exactly be called objective. He refers to his own actions as “cruel,” “sadistic” and “traitorous.” 

Pulaski finally interrupts him. “Data, you can’t possibly think you’re the bad guy here.”

“The facts stand,” Data says flatly. “My friends trusted me, and I turned on them. Geordi trusted me, and I hurt him.” 

“Oh, don’t give me that crap,” she snaps. “You were hacked!”

“Doctor— ‘hacked’?”

“Your… this ‘brother’ of yours blew past any safeties you had and fiddled with that bucket-of-bolts brain you have,” she elaborates. “Like any old cyberterrorist. Hell, you can do it to human brains, too, with the right equipment. Ever since the invention of the neural neutralizer, there have been laws in place to protect the rights of individuals who committed atrocities under the influence of mind control.”

“To be honest,” Data says, “I have been questioning my own legal status as an individual.” 

“Data,” she says, “the case is closed. You’re a person, and a damn annoying one. You’re really going to question the judge’s decision on your own personhood?”

“But I am merely a walking pile of circuitry,” Data says. 

Pulaski scoffs. “And I’m just a walking bag of bones,” she points out. “Data— you’re too hard on yourself. I don’t know  _ how _ , but you are. And you have been as long as I’ve known you.” 

He considers that. Oddly enough, it sounds similar to statements Counselor Troi has made in the past. And he has not known Dr. Pulaski and Counselor Troi to agree on very much. In his experience, when two people of differing opinions and beliefs find common ground… they are often correct. 

“I… did not want to endanger my friends,” he says softly. “I did not want to hurt Geordi.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Pulaski says. “What happened to you sounds just awful. Your own will and sense of self, robbed from you. But it wasn’t your fault. Even lightyears away, I can tell that. Stop beating yourself up.” 

He tilts his head. “‘Beating myself up’...?”

“Putting yourself in the brig. Acting like any of this is your fault,” Pulaski says. “How about this— you get out of there, go back to your quarters and take a nice sonic shower. Doctor’s orders.”

“But, Doctor, you are no longer my chief medical officer—”

“Just do it anyway,” she suggests. “Pulaski out.”

* * *

Data listens to her. He goes back to his quarters. He feeds Spot. He takes a sonic shower. Someone has been here, in his quarters— at first he thinks perhaps Lieutenant Barclay, visiting Spot, but then he spies the box on his console. 

Lore’s emotion chip. Dr. Crusher must have brought it here after she disassembled Lore. Because he’d requested it. Because he needed to know, needed to see—

Data sinks into his chair, staring at the tiny chip that nearly destroyed everything. 

He’s still examining it when his door chimes. “Enter.” 

Geordi walks in, looking so much healthier and stronger than the last time Data saw him (suffering, shaking, enduring so much pain and torment…). And Data realizes he isn’t ready for this, can’t even fathom what he’s going to say to him. 

If Geordi notices Data’s apprehension and discomfort, he pays it no mind. He strides in and starts stroking Spot, as if this is any other day, as if Data hasn’t ruined everything. He tells Data that Dr. Crusher has cleared him for duty, and Data admits he is relieved. 

Is ‘relief’ technically an emotion? Right now he doesn’t much care. Geordi is alive, is okay, and that’s really all that matters. When he explains his plan to destroy the emotion chip, Geordi stops him. He grabs the chip before Data has a chance to fire on it. 

“I wouldn’t be much of a friend,” Geordi says, “if I let you give up on a lifelong dream, would I?” 

Data feels like he’s short-circuiting. How could Geordi question  _ his _ behavior, consider  _ himself _ a bad friend in any way? Data is the one who betrayed him. Data is the one who strapped him down to a table and tried meticulously, calmly to destroy him. 

“Maybe someday,” Geordi continues, “when you’re ready.”

Ready? He’ll never be “ready.” He was “ready” to irradiate Geordi’s existing brain cells and wipe out the existence of the best friend he’s ever known. 

“Geordi,” Data says evenly, “I would understand if you wished to terminate our friendship.” 

“Yeah,” Geordi says, “I’ve been climbing the walls in sickbay to come here and see you just so I could tell you I never want to see you again.” 

Data stares at him. “Are you being… sarcastic?”

“ _ Yes _ , Data,” Geordi sighs. He sets the emotion chip back on the desk and scratches Spot behind the ears. “You’re my best friend, Data. I meant every word I said when I was strapped to that table. And I also know that  _ you _ didn’t mean  _ anything _ you said.” 

“That… you cannot be certain—”

“I’ve known you for seven years,” Geordi says. “I think I know you better than Lore does, and I know that whatever words he was putting into your mouth don’t mean a thing.”

“I… That is…” Data’s eyes flash, and he looks away from Geordi, unable to unsee the memory of his face contorted in fear as Data drilled those fibers into his skull. 

Instead, he focuses on Spot— her soft fur, her long whiskers. He runs a hand along her back, petting her gently. Many of his human friends have expressed that they find comfort in petting Spot. As a machine, he is, of course, immune. And yet— it does feel  _ nice _ . 

“Geordi,” Data says, “you were right. If I had permanently damaged you, even… killed… you, I do not believe I would ever forgive myself. As it stands, I still do not know how I can forgive myself.” 

“Well, I forgive you,” Geordi says. “Maybe I can forgive you enough for both of us.” 

* * *

It’s a nice sentiment, but Geordi knows it isn’t enough. Data’s going to need time— and counseling, most likely— to fully trust himself again. To really forgive himself. Plus, he’s so wound up about what he did under Lore’s control that he’s barely even started to reflect on the fact that he was forced to deactivate his brother. He’s going to need time. 

Fortunately— thanks to Hugh— he’s got plenty of time. They both do. Geordi chooses to use a little of his time eating more of the donuts his engineering officers brought him and letting Data try out the cube game from Reg. 


End file.
